in peace, chaos and in pink
we try to keep sight of
the symbols, metaphors
vested upon us by them
the influence, the stories
no matter, the mind or the heart
quietly pursue the done and the dusted
waking up to glorious moments
yet a mirage of the said
looms over the pristine
trying hard to make sense
of everything around, inside
engraved in me are ways
discovered by them
we all can pick our own
still we lay inert with eyes wide open
why seek a friend, foe a purpose
to stir up passion, a zest in life
why wait for a right time
to find the right in the wrong
they are limited by our sight
our mundane patterns of passivity
try to break-free and get scorned at
by the marshalls of society
created by us, defined by us
they move like stumbling blocks
I am on my own journey
free of a mind and reason
in search of a rare perfect blossom
